Discordant Harmony
by cyn2
Summary: Draco Malfoy is evil, immoral, rotten and cold. Or is he? Ultimately a Draco and Ginny fic, it also expands to Draco trying to find out where his place, and loyalties, really lies: to himself.
1. Prologue: Whisked to the Burrow

Author Notes:

            This _is_ a Draco fic and I tried to get him as in character as possible (slight hints of Draco and Ginny) Set during the summer after Book 4, Goblet of Fire. Also note that this is just the prologue of the entire fic and, as so, the shortest of all the parts (that will soon follow.) In other words – don't worry ^^

Summary: 

            As Draco Malfoy watches as Muggle after Muggle gets tortured and killed in the wake of Voldemort's rise, a feeling he thought he would never feel awakens - remorse. When put on the spot to kill a Muggle to be initiated as a Death Eater, Draco does the last thing he, or anyone else, ever thought he would do - he saves a Muggle. Saved by Aurors, he is whisked to the Weasleys for protection.

Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter? -.-; 'Nuff said

**Discordant Harmony**

Prologue

"... at least twenty Muggles killed ...."

"... must have been a celebration ...."

"... we were too late ..."

"... caught...?"

"... they ran away ..."

"... he was on the floor, shielding a body ..."

Jumbled. That was one way of describing it. Everything felt jumbled - distorted, mutated, and unreal. But one thing was prominent in all of it: with everything there was pain. Such pain. The lids of his eyes burned as did his ears and he felt a throbbing at the bridge of his nose. Not just throbbing, really, more like something was clenching the bridge of his nose _hard_.

"… Him?"

Draco tried to open his eyes, but found that he couldn't. His lids were heavy and the effort hurt. He then tried his tongue, to utter some sound to let them (whoever 'them' were) know he was awake, but his lips would not part and his tongue would not budge. If anything he would have growled in aggravation, but even his vocal cords seemed paralyzed. His sense of hearing, however, was already beginning to sharpen the once blurred words into intelligible sentences.

"You're sure that what you saw was accurate? Was he really trying to shield the boy?"

That voice. He knew that voice. Even in his jumbled state with half his senses not working he could never not be able to distinguish that voice. 'Dumbledore,' he thought and he was surprised to find an odd flutter of relief make its way through him. 'Why is Dumbledore here? Where is _here_?'

"He ran in front of him." The voice belonged to a man, but he did not recognize it. "The act must have been to shield the boy."

"And the boy?" Dumbledore.

"In the care of his grandparents. Memory charms were issued accordingly." Another male's voice. "The boy, Ashton, however, will not talk despite the memory charms cast on him. It's reported he has frequent nightmares at night."

'Shield...?' Draco thought. Were they talking about him? Again he felt his head throb in pain at the effort of trying to remember. 'I was trying to shield a boy...?' It was blank. What boy? What celebration? What were they talking about?! But again that throb came and with it an image of a little boy with a ridiculous cardboard hat on his head and the largest grin Draco had ever seen in his life.

_The party was large with all the family members gathered for the celebration of a little boy's fifth birthday. He sat in the front surrounded by his parents and elder relatives, squirming and smiling at all the attention he was receiving. His sandy hair had been slicked back for the occasion, but he was an active kid - you could tell by the constant jerking of his wrist as if he just itched to do something - and, 20 minutes in, his once impeccable hairdo was in disarray._

_His two front teeth were missing and he was wearing a shirt covered in chocolate ice cream. He was laughing._

Draco started to feel the pinpricks of awakening in his wand hand and he let that image go. Feeling his hand go from numb to painful wasn't exactly pleasant, but he at least knew he was alive. 

"The Killing Curse...

_The large room filled with adults and kids went dark. Slight cries of surprise were heard, followed by the younger kids wailing. The adults were assuring everyone it was fine ("A power outage, surely") and was about to make it to the doors to fix the problem when a large 'bang' was issued and green light exploded inward from the door. Higher wails now and then high-pitched screams of terror..._

_            ... screams ..._

_            And more green lights._

... was being issued," this voice Draco could distinguish and he knew it was Professor Lupin, his third year werewolf Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "I'm unsure of the events before we came, but I have reasons to believe he was being tested to be initiated...

            _"Avada Kedavra"_

_Those two words were echoing everywhere followed by either "Crucio" or another curse that inflicted pain. More screams, even more crying, and laughter._

_They were all laughing and looking at him. They were looking at him as if he was to laugh as well. They were telling him to laugh as well. To laugh at the crying, the screaming, the pain... to laugh at the stupid Muggles._

_But he stared at the celebrant of the party, his once practically toothless, goofy smile wiped away by eyes so stripped from innocence. So like his. So much like his... Just as gray, just as deep, just as shocked and confused..._

_            He could not laugh._

_"Such meek, pathetic things, aren't they?" A cold voice said from behind him. "Your father asks for you to be initiated, young Malfoy," his voice whispered to his ear, "and as I stand here and watch I wonder where your wishes lie."_

_            His tongue would not work. He stood frozen._

_"I sense confusion from you, young Malfoy," his father's Master continued, "a confusion I'm unsure whether I like. However, your father has proven his merit once again to me," Lucius bowed, "and in return I shall award him with his one wish - your initiation to me."_

_Cold shivers. Those scared gray eyes. Those defiant gray eyes. The young celebrant sat alone, shaking, dead bodies spilled around him in such a way that it looked like an intricate design of grotesque beauty. The room was silent by the dead and the young little boy at the age of 5 stood alone in the room, all that was left of this supposedly beautiful, unforgettable moment in his life shattered._

_            "Show me how true you are to me, young Malfoy," Voldemort said. "Kill him."_

_The 'him' did not need to be defined for the little boy stood in front of him with that absurd cardboard birthday hat dangling from his head. His father stared at him expectantly, as did the other Death Eaters, and he could feel Voldemort's eyes bearing down on his wand arm._

_He raised his wand and inhaled. 'Avada Kedavra,' he thought. The boy before him cringed._

_Those two words. Those simple two words and then the switch and flick. 'Avada Kedavra.' He had to say it. Voldemort was staring at him harder now, those snake-like nostrils widening. 'Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra.'_

_            His wand hand twitched._

_            'Avada Kedavra!Avada Kedavra!'_

_His lips parted and his tongue began to form the first syllable. A croaked sob from the boy in front of him reached his ear. He HAD to. His father was also staring, bearing holes through his wand. He saw him nod at him with a proud grin on his face._

_            'AvadaKedavra!AVADAKEDAVRAAVADAKEDAVRA-'_

His sense of touch must have come back then for he felt two warm hands grip his wrist and then the cool air as his sleeve was pushed back. His arm was overturned and he felt fingers prodding against his skin. "He does not hold the mark." Again Draco could distinguish that voice and he couldn't help but feel the old, familiar distaste fill him. 'A Weasley,' he thought. If only his lips could move, he would have accomplished his usual sneer. However, the nerves on his face were still deadened and his immobility still intact. He then felt as Arthur Weasley pulled the sleeve back down and his warm touch left his wrist.

_            "What's wrong, young Malfoy?" Voldemort asked. "Do you care for Muggles?"_

_He could not respond. His eyes were set on the little boy, staring at him, the young boy's eyes wide with such fright and so much loss. Of course he didn't care for Muggles. They're worthless. They are lowly and pathetic - the pinnacle of disgrace. **But they do not deserve this**. Draco's raised arm faltered. Muggles are pitiful, mundane, low, and weak... **They do not deserve this**._

_"Draco!" His father's voice snapped at him. "Master," he now turned his attention to Voldemort, "I do not know what's wrong with my son. Too much excitement, perhaps, or pleasure has obviously impaired him..."_

_Voldemort looked from Draco to Lucius and then gave a quick nod. "Perhaps you're right, Lucius," Voldemort said as he turned. "I'll leave it to you to take care of the boy, then."_

_"Thank you, Master," Lucius replied as his wand was raised. "Crucio!" Light flashed from his wand to the five year old child and his tiny frame instantly began to jerk. Cries cut through the air once more, mingled with laughter. Draco watched as the young boy twisted and curled, jerked and stilled, cried and wept. He tried to shut out the image as a feeling in him raised. Disgust. He felt such utter disgust at this scene. It was so appalling - so sickening. So **wrong**._

_"Stop." It was a whisper, but it was heard. Voldemort spun to stare at him and his father stopped laughing at once. "Stop it!" He raised his wand to put force to his words, but Voldemort's voice stopped the curse about to be muttered._

_"Young Malfoy," Voldemort's cool voice cruised the air to his ear and Draco felt the effects immediately. His nerves racked and his skin prickled. "Stop, you say?"_

_Draco's teeth clenched and he felt as his feet moved his frame to block the twitching boy from the rest. "This... this isn't..."_

_"Isn't what?" Voldemort asked, his forked tongue visible between his thin lips in a way that made him look hungry. _

_"This isn't how it's supposed to be!" The young boy behind him seemed to begin recovering himself since he stopped twitching and started to curl up into a ball. Little sobs were heard. "This... This is just a kid!"_

_"He's a Muggle. He's a worthless Muggle. A low, weak, pathetic Muggle," Voldemort hissed out. His eyes were beginning to gleam. "Are you really willing to die for a Muggle, young Malfoy?"_

_            Draco saw as his father's eyes gave a frantic glance to his Master. "Master, y-"_

_"Silent, Lucius!" Voldemort yelled. His attention returned to Draco. "Are you really willing to die with that piece of filth?" No response. "So be it." Voldemort raised his wand. Draco, reflexes borne from being Slytherin's Seeker for the past 4 years, grabbed the boy behind him and was ready to dodge the curse. "Avada-!" But the spell was never finished and Draco, in mid-leap, already slightly unbalanced, became more so when the windows opposite the room burst into little fragments and an almighty burst of air blew its way inside. The sweep of air that could have knocked over a Hippogriff swept him up and in a second, he was banged against the opposite wall with the little boy still in his arms._

_            Then there was darkness..._

Someone was pacing near him since he could hear the continuous 'click, clack' of that owner's shoes. "He can't stay here," Lupin said. "The Leaky Cauldron isn't exactly the most secure place we can house him. Even more so now that Voldemort is showing signs of… vindication."

"Hogwarts is too far - the journey there will be too precarious," Professor Snape said. "We cannot risk it - I am sure he is going to try and get him back. The Hogwarts Express can be safe, but it certainly isn't safe enough on such a long voyage. The extra wards are not yet up."

"He might know what Voldemort is planning, as well," another male voice said. "His information is too valuable. Voldemort must know that making him even more at risk."

"If he's willing to share," Arthur Weasley said. "Then there's no other place, is there?" The room was silent. "There is only one place left where he is modestly safe."

"Arthur..." This was Dumbledore. "It is your choice. We can keep him here at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Headmaster," Arthur said, chuckling, "the Leaky Cauldron is not safe at all since the parting." A sigh escaped his lips, but it was a resolute one. "The Burrow really is the closest, _safest_ place, isn't it? And who would ever expect a Weasley protecting a Malfoy?"

'You got that right,' Draco thought before he felt his upper torso being pulled up and warm arms wrap around him. Someone parted his lips and a cold and cooling liquid was flowing down his throat. "This will help his wounds," a feminine voice - Madame Pomfrey - said before he was again washed into darkness. But a comforting and soothing one he did not fight.

.:. TBC .:.

Most of the story is already formed in my head and half already written down, but myself being a perfectionist (somewhat), everything is going to go through a harrowing editing ordeal. Please take note that each part will take time to be posted for the sake of quality (hopefully), but I promise it won't take nearly as long as the publishing of the 5th book (though comparing a 10-page part to a 100+ page novel is not nearly fair)

Oh wells ^______^

.:. cyn .:.


	2. Chapter 1: A Rude Awakening

Author's Notes:

First off – thanks to those who reviewed!! You're all the best ^~

The romance isn't going to enter for a while, as I've just realized, since this is more of a Draco-centric fic. Or, rather, it's turning out to _be_ a more Draco-centric fic. Also, Ginny doesn't know that Sirius can transform into a big black dog or that the big black dog is actually Sirius Black. 

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other character within the series.

Discordant Harmony 

Chapter 1

The Burrow. There wasn't much to say about it. It was, after all, just a house that was too small for the many occupants inside. Mrs. Weasley was anxiously making dinner, looking at the clock with the many names and watching as her husband was still at the Leaky Cauldron. Bill and Charlie were both watching their mother watch the clock, noticing that her wand - in stirring - was being dipped into the soup. In the backyard were the twins, testing out their latest invention since their mother was too preoccupied to notice. The youngest boy of the Weasley clan was in his room with his friend, Hermione Granger, both writing a letter to send to their friend, the famous Harry Potter. Percy was again locked in his room, _again_ trying to make out the current situation with Crouch and the rise of Voldemort.  And in the living room, near the fire since she, too, was anxious at her father's absence, sat Ginny Weasley, youngest female Weasley in the large Weasley clan.

"Mother, your wa-" Charlie began to point out that the tip of her wand was already in danger of being added as the dinner's ingredients, but Mrs. Weasley only shushed him.

            "But, mum," Bill now tried, "your wand-"

            "Why is he still _there_?" Molly asked, as she seemed to not have heard her sons' remarks. Turning back to her cooking, she saw her wand and instantly corrected it. "He's been there for over an hour now. And he's _late_. You don't think-"

            "Mum!" Ginny Weasley's voice carried from the living room. Mrs. Weasley looked up and both Bill and Charlie again saw as her wand's tip dropped into the soup. "Dad's coming home!" Glancing at the clock, they all saw as Arthur's arrow now pointed towards traveling. In another moment, the flames in the hearth roared green and Arthur Weasley stepped out.

            "Arthur!" Molly said relieved, coming towards him and engulfing him in a tight hug. Ever since Dumbledore announced news of Voldemort's rise, she - as well as the rest of the family - had become more so anxious at any loved ones extended absence. Especially Harry's.

            Ginny noted as he disentangled himself from her mum's arms that his supposedly reassuring smile was strained. "I have something very important to inform all of you."

            The room went silent. Ginny glanced again towards the fire noting that the flames were still green. Were there more people coming? "Where are Ron, Percy and the twins?" Molly answered and ushered Bill and Charlie to get them.

            "What's wrong?"

            His mouth opened as if to say something and then closed. He kept doing that until Bill, Charlie and the rest returned - all with worried faces. "How are you, Hermione?" He asked as he caught sight of brown hair among the sea of red.

            Hermione gave a small smile, but her eyes clearly told that she was more interested in his news. Was it something to do with Harry? Had anything happened? Similar questions were running the course through each family member's minds as well. "There was another attack," Arthur began as he ran a hand through his sparse red hair. "Third one so far on Muggles. Happened at the edges of Little Whinging."

            "Dad, Harry-"

            Ron silenced when his father raised a hand and shook his head. "Harry is fine. He," Arthur's face turned strained, " no, _Voldemort_," a reflex gasp from the others, "had not tried to go after Harry – yet. Dumbledore figures he is still just testing whether or not his powers are as good as they were before."

            "Are they, Dad?" Charlie asked, his lips thin. He remembered Voldemort's reign all too vividly. To have it happen again...

            At that question, Arthur gave his first genuine smile that evening. "Thankfully not. Over the years his power has weakened considerably and Severus - Professor Snape -," the twins frowned at his name, "reckons it's mainly because of the long absence of serious... use." Now his face turned strained again. "The attack near Little Whinging is so far the biggest yet. A wizard was injured badly in trying to help save a Muggle boy." Ginny glanced towards the fireplace and the green flames. "He needs somewhere to stay to recuperate and to stay - to stay safe." Understanding what he meant, that Voldemort was now on the look out for this wizard, everyone nodded. "The closest place and safest is here. At the Burrow. I have agreed. I ask you whether you agree or not." Nobody moved, but that was only for a second.

            "Don't be silly, Arthur," Molly said, coming near him and grabbing his hand. "You didn't have to ask. Of course, the poor dear. Where is he?"

            "He'll be coming shortly," Arthur said as he slinked down on a chair and ran his hand once more through his sparse red hair. A few seconds of relaxation and then he stood up again, his nose sniffing the air. "Molly, is something burning?"

            "Oh no! The dinner!" Brandishing her wand, she pointed towards the kitchen. "Nox." The fire on the stove went out, but it was too late. Half the soup had bubbled its way to the stovetop to form a little swamp on the kitchen floor and the meat that had been frying now resembled a lump of coal. "Guess we'll be having sandwiches tonight." Seeing Ron's stricken look, she added, "We ran out of corned beef last week, dear."

            Ginny smiled at the exchange and then resumed her staring towards the green fire. Everyone else was also looking and then her father started to scratch his head. "It couldn't take _this_-" But he stopped for then a large 'pop' roared and out came forth Dumbledore with a little yellow box in his hands and a large grin on his old, wizened face. "Hello Molly," he said and then acknowledged the rest individually with their names. "I'm sure Arthur has already informed you of the matter?"

            "Yes, Headmaster."

            "Again, I do not wish to make you both feel pressured into doing this."

            "Headmaster, we would be honored to house the poor dear. Is he still injured? Should we call the local nurse?"

            "Madame Pomfrey has tended his wounds." He paused as then another 'pop' was heard and a man in patched clothing and a large black dog appeared.

            "Professor Lupin!" Hermione said and paused in front of the dog to give him a smile. "Hey Snuffles." The large black dog muzzled her hand and did the same to Ron. "What are you doing-?" She was forced to stop as another 'pop' resounded and Professor Snape appeared.

            "Everything sound here, Headmaster?" He asked. He was obviously trying to ignore the dog and Ginny noted that the dog, however oddly, seemed to be trying to do the same.

            "Please do a quick patrol around the grounds, Severus," Dumbledore said and then added with another large smirk, "and do bring 'Snuffles' with you." Ginny again saw as the dog, as if understanding, gave a small growl but then walked stiffly out the door with Professor Snape. Both seemed highly reluctant to be near each other.

            Finally, the last 'pop' was heard and out came a man who Ginny did not recognize at all. He was tall and wide, but in a muscular way. His hair was cropped short to his head and in his large arms was a grown person wrapped from head to toe in an over-sized cloak.

            "Molly, this is Alden Nester from the Floo Regulation Panel in the Ministry." Arthur said introducing the man. He strode forward and gave her mum a nod of hello. "Alden, this is my wife and my kids. Well, all the red heads," he amended and Hermione gave him a quick grin.

            "Where should I place him, Arthur?"

            "Still hasn't come around?"  
  


            Alden shook his head. Arthur, scratching his head, looked around. "Where _to_ put him?"

            "He can stay in my room," Ron said as he finally got off the steps and stood next to his father. "Bill and Charlie are leaving tomorrow anyways and the twins will have their room back tomorrow."

            Arthur looked towards his two eldest sons. "Going back so soon? Are you sure?"

            "I got word that some of the dragons are getting out of hand. Just like before. I reckon they can sense that _he_ has come back," Charlie said. "If... if Voldemort attacked last night I'm sure they'll be even more so when I get back."

            "I bet Gringotts will need extra help as well and more wards need to be put up," Bill said. He then moved to Alden and brought forth his arms. "I can see you're having trouble holding him."

            Alden gave forth a large, booming laugh that could have rivaled Hagrid's. Almost. Ginny watched as the bundle in cloaks was shifted into Bill's arms. Some of the cloak parted and she caught sight of mussed up blonde hair poking from the end. "Scrawny, but heavy," Alden said. Walking back to the fireplace, he leaned forward and mumbled a charm Ginny couldn't quite hear. "No one followed. Once I get back to the Office, I'll cut off the connection indefinitely. A Ministry car will be loaned to you until the whole matter is cleared."

            "Thank you, Alden."

            "No problem."

            The front door opened and in stormed Professor Snape with his left hand clutched in his right. His eyes were burning with anger. The dog, in turn, looked smug. 'If dogs _could_ look smug,' Ginny thought. "What happened?" Professor Lupin asked looking alarmingly at the wound on Snape's left hand.

            "This... this _canine_ should be trained some more, Remus," Professor Snape gritted out and the dog growled. Professor Lupin came over and put a hand on the dog's head and it calmed. "The grounds are clear. All I found was a bunch of gnomes trying to get into the garden, but other then that, everything is fine." He walked over to Bill and pulled out a golden potion with swirls of orange all around. "Once he wakes, he must drink this."

            "What is it?" Bill asked curiously, shifting the body's weight and grabbing onto the potion. Percy came over and helped him.

            "It's primary purpose is to finish healing up his wounds," Snape said. "My own special mix. The second purpose is to make him incapable of crossing the boundary I have set up around this house. He can go no further then the fence and the nearer he is, the less magical aptitude he has. He _must_ drink _all of it_ - even if you have to force him." With that he sent a look towards Arthur. "He'll be incapable of magic for the first twelve hours, but depending on his level in wizardry it can be as less as an hour. Since he was the second to top in his year, and in my house, I expect him to break that restriction within two hours."

            Hermione and Ron exchanged shocked glances. The wizard came from Snape's house? But Snape's house is Slytherin. A Slytherin _saved_ a Muggle!? Dumbledore stepped forward to Arthur and gave him a black wand that was at least 11 inches. Ron, staring at it, felt a pang of recognition. Glancing again towards Hermione with her bewildered and confused face, he realized she must have felt the same recognition go through her. "His wand." A honk was issued from outside and Snape, looking out the window, nodded.

            "Fletcher is here with the Ministry cars." Walking out, he returned with a set of keys and gave them to Arthur. "We must be going."

            Dumbledore agreed and gave them all one last look and bow. "I'll double the wards," he said and then put the box of lemon drops in Molly's hands. "If anything happens, _anything at all_, I ask you all to take one lemon drop each."

            "Whatever for, Headmaster?"

            "You'll find they're all bewitched to send the holder immediately to the Leaky Cauldron. I have put twelve lemon drops in this box."

            "Twelve, Headmaster?" Ron asked, his grin widening. "Does that mean Harry can come over?"

            Dumbledore gave a nod. "The attack was a bit too near Harry's location. I believe Voldemort is beginning to figure his way around the spell cast around Harry's relatives' house. For if he didn't, he wouldn't be capable of performing any such spell in Little Whinging at all." Another honk was heard. "He'll be arriving tomorrow morning with Remus and… and Snuffles," his eyes twinkled, "since you have all asked so much for his stay."

            "Thank you, Dumbledore," Arthur said.

            "No, thank _you_," Dumbledore said and then turned around. "Thank all of you." And with that, he walked out with the rest of his entourage.

            Bill, his face giving a little grimace, shifted the weight in his arms again. "Oy, Mr. Nester wasn't lying about this boy's weight."

            "I told you to start getting those weight lifts from Sir Flannis," Charlie said as he took the bundle from his elder brother. The cloak once again slipped slightly off and everyone saw dusty boots, but expensive ones, poke out. Ron again felt that sinking feeling as if he knew whom those boots belonged to. "It'd build up your puny arms."

            "I rather like my puny arms," Bill replied grinning, while rubbing the said puny arms. "Let's hurry and lay him down. He might come around any minute." Walking towards the stairs, Hermione backed against the wall to give them some room and everyone followed Charlie to Ron's room. Finally, entering the blazingly orange room, Charlie stood and glanced about. "Which cot, Dad?"

            "Put him on Ron's bed," Molly answered as she plucked a stack of _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_ off and onto a table. Pulling back the coverlets, Charlie laid the boy down with the cloak still wrapped around his body. Molly, shooing Charlie away, then rested herself next to the body and began to unwrap the cloak.

            Ron, nearest the doorway, turned so he faced Hermione. "Who do you reckon he is?"

            "Snape said he was in his house."

            "A Slytherin saving a Muggle," Ron snorted as he rolled his eyes. "It's amazing really. To think any Slytherin actually had the heart... the _decency_ to save anyone but themselves."

            "I guess not all Slytherins are bad," Hermione whispered, craning her head to look at who the boy was. The cloak was now on the floor, but she could not look over the towering Weasley twins.

            Again Ron snorted as he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "And next we'll be calling Draco Malfoy a heroic prick."

            A loud gasp and Ginny stumbled her way towards them, her eyes wide and mouth agape. The twins, now parted since she pushed them apart, gave both Ron and Hermione full view of the wizard who saved a Muggle boy. "No way..." Ron whispered out, his face very similar to his sister's.

            "... Draco Malfoy."

i.

            True to his word, Dumbledore did indeed send Harry the following morning accompanied with Remus Lupin and the great big dog, Snuffles. And after a heartfelt welcome from the Weasleys and Hermione and after a larger heartfelt goodbye to Lupin and the dog, Harry felt content indeed. Until he went up to Ron's room and saw who was lying in Ron's ridiculously orangey bed. That led to a lot of gasping and a lot of "No way"s with an even more shocked silence when Ron explained the situation.

            "Percy says he should have woken up by now," Ron explained as he, Hermione and Harry sat in the living room. The twins were sent to de-gnome the garden and Arthur, Bill, Charlie, and Percy were sent to the Ministry to do some work for Dumbledore. Molly was in the kitchen getting lunch prepared and Ginny was set to watch over Malfoy until he awoke. As Snape had instructed, Malfoy _must_ swallow the potion immediately upon awakening.

            "But Mr. Weasley said that he got hurt pretty bad during the attack," Hermione said as she fiddled with the hem of her cloak. "I still can't believe... By God... I mean, really now," she raised her arms and then frustratingly brought them back down, "_Malfoy_. _Draco_ Malfoy!"

            Ron and Harry nodded their heads in agreement as Harry fingered his scar. There were no more burning pains when Voldemort felt particularly blood-hungry, but the events after the Third Task still scarred his dreams. He remembered during the tribute to Cedric at the ending of school year how Malfoy had whispered something to Goyle with a smile - that smile that made Harry want to go over and punch the living daylights out of him. Then all the taunts of Muggles being low - of Mudbloods being who they were because their blood was tainted by non-magic folk. Now here Malfoy was, injured, because he tried to save the very thing he was known of despising - a Muggle.

            He was going to say something, to voice his thoughts aloud to his friends, but a scream was heard from upstairs. It was Ginny's scream.

ii.

            One moment he felt close to regaining consciousness, the next he was once again embraced by complete and utter - yet comfortingly warm - darkness. He was unsure how long he floated on that black, warm cloud, but all too soon he felt himself being rudely awakened. A scream was piercing the air, a loud, terrified scream, and it broke through the black haze that hugged him almost immediately. The black was split in half as if an invisible scissor split it and bright white light shone it's way to him. He felt utterly exposed - and aching.

            "MUM!!!!!!!!!" He heard the same feminine high-pitched scream and then a background of masculine chuckling. "Wait till I tell mum what you just did!"

            That immediately stopped the background chuckling. Draco felt a groan reach his lips - his body felt as if a hundred griffins were stampeding their way across him - but felt as if his lips were again momentarily paralyzed.

            "Oh Ginny," one of the masculine voices whined in the background. 'Ginny?' Draco thought, his eyes trying to open, but having to force them shut at the bright light. "We were just joking. Weren't we, Fred?"

            'Fred?' Draco thought once more, his mind again trying to reminisce the past events.

            A door ('Must be a door...' Draco thought) must have then slammed open because of the large 'whoosh' and 'bang' that went through the room. "What happened?" That voice. Draco knew that voice. He sneered. "Ginny, are you okay?"

            A hesitant pause and Draco knew exactly where he was. Somewhere called 'The Burrow.' Somewhere with the Weasleys. And Potter. Only one missing was the Mudblood. "I'm fine. Just these gits over here playing another prank."

            "Thank goodness," another feminine voice said and if Draco had his eyes open he'd have rolled his eyes. Of course the Mudblood wouldn't be missing. Imagine the Dream Team split up even during summer. Impossible!

            "Well, if everything is all right then..." That was Potter again. His sneer grew bigger and shocking himself and the rest of the room, what he thought he was thinking ('Potter') was said aloud - with all the malice that went whenever it left his mouth. The room fell silent and he could just feel as every eye went towards him.

            "Did you hear that?" Ron asked ('Definitely that Weasley,' Draco thought.)

            "He just called you, Harry," one of the twins said since he could never really distinguish them apart. "Draco dreams of you. Don't know whether that's flattering or disturbing, but -"

            "Sod off, _Weasley_," Draco muttered yet again as he felt his mouth begin to work. Hell, if he just _tried_ hard enough, he'd be up. But his head still felt slightly fuzzy and trying_ anything_ simply hurt. This time a groan left his mouth followed with his eyes readjusting themselves to the bright light. When they finally managed to open, he was met with something that startled him. It wasn't the bright orange walls nor the sparkling potion to his right - not even Potter - but the person who was standing right beside him. She was small and had fire red hair with freckles from head to toe. Her eyes - those eyes are what held him. They were concerned. Such concern were sparkling out of them that he felt momentarily speechless again. That was, of course, until Ron's irritating voice ruined it.

            "Malfoy, you prick," his voice sounded much too loud for his sensitive ears, "you're awake." Oddly enough, even in his once more jumbled state, he realized Ron's voice had lost the malice he was so used to. What was odder still was the appraising looks he was receiving from everyone – even from Potter.

            "What are you all staring at?" he snapped, fighting valiantly against the covers that would not let him get up. Again he was caught up into those brown spheres of innocent concern and he felt his senses lose themselves. The owner of those eyes seemed to also have hands ('Of course you git,' he thought vehemently) – hands that were now gently and shyly removing the sheets that threatened to suffocate him.

            He was about to mutter a numb "Thanks" before he caught himself. Was he about to thank this girl? On closer inspection and as his mind cleared, he thought again, 'Was he about to thank a Weasley!?' So instead of saying "thanks" he stood up from the bed and attempted to stride pridefully out. Unfortunately, he hadn't regained himself completely, and when he stood up so abruptly, the world spun and teetered and he was again on the blasted bed with the sheets tightened about him. He was even more annoyed when he saw the person that had stopped him from falling.

            "Get your hands off me Potter before I curse you into oblivion," he gritted out and was edged on as Harry didn't get off, but instead gave him one of those annoyingly friendly smiles. 'Friendly!?!' Draco thought before he began to struggle.

            "Draco, calm down!" Harry said as he got Fred and George to pin down both of his kicking legs.

            "Draco?!" Draco cried out. "Not Malfoy now is it? May I ask why, Potter, the change of heart?"

            Harry gave him another of those too friendly grins and Draco felt another surge of adrenaline cruise through him and he began to kick much more frantically. What the hell was going on? Again that flash of a little boy with a cardboard hat came into view followed by the same little boy twitching and crying. Then, as if shocked by lightning, he realized why everyone was looking at him like that. As if he was some different person. As if he was someone to _thank_.

            "Get off me, Potter!" Draco now screamed. "You too, Weasleys."

            But they were not paying attention to him because all their attention was to his right. As he looked as well, he saw the youngest Weasley (Ginny wasn't it?) uncorking that golden potion he had seen. About to ask what they were going to do, the question froze from his lips when she came forward and offered him it.

            "You got to drink it," Harry said matter of factly as he was still pinning his arms down.

            "And why would I listen to you?" Draco spat as he again frantically tried to get loose from their holds.

            "I still can't believe he saved _anyone_," Ron commented loudly enough to be heard over the little squabble. Draco, hearing, stilled. "He still seems like the old prick back at Hogwarts."

            "Still am, _Weasley_," Draco replied as he no longer struggled with the three boys on top of him. Craning his head so he looked straight at him, he tried to give him the most sinister grin he could conjure up. "Care to see?"

            "You can stop acting all tough and bad," Hermione voiced ("Act!?" Draco yelled) as she came over to his side and looked down reproachfully at him, "because you already proved it was all talk with absolutely no bite."

            "If you care to give me back my wand, Mudblood," gasps and angry grumbles filled the room and Draco felt a satisfying – and familiar – amusement come from it. Yes, this was familiar ground, "we can see whether your 'theory' is true or not."

            Hermione, not responding, pulled out her own wand. Seeing this, he said quickly, "You're not allowed to do magic over the vacations."

            "You're not allowed to do _unnecessary_ magic over the vacations," Hermione reminded him. "And since you really need to drink that potion and since you obviously won't drink it without a fight, it will be _very_ necessary to magically subdue you." Smiling, she leaned over and tapped his forehead lightly, "Unless you plan to quietly drink all the potion by yourself." Leaning yet further, close enough that, Draco noticed with even more amusement, made Ron's lips thin, she whispered quietly in his ear, "to keep your pride intact, of course."

            When she leaned back up, she had an all too knowing look on her face that made the damned pink patches glow it's way back onto his cheeks. Grumbling, he wretched his right hand out from Harry's damn weight and stared at the potion that was still in Ginny's hands. "Now get off me," he said and saw as Potter and the two Weasley twins obliged. As he was about to gulp, he also saw his wand on the bedside table. With a quick swig he drained the potion and, seeing all their approving faces, made a mad leap for his wand. Succeeding, he pointed it towards all of them.

            "All talk and no bite, eh, Mudblood?" He asked as he waved it threateningly towards her. Odd prickles were swimming their way around his wand arm, but he ignored the unpleasant sensation. To his immense fury and annoyance, he saw as all of them looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "_Expelliarmus!_" Waving his wand in front of him, he sputtered to a stop as he realized that absolutely nothing happened. He said the word right, didn't he? He even did the necessary swish and flick. "_Expelliarmus_!" He cried out again.

            "You can stop wasting your breath, Malfoy," Ron said as he stretched lazily. "You're currently impaired of any magic for awhile."

            Draco gritted his teeth.

            "If you don't believe me," Ron went on, "just keep trying to do spells. Nothing will work."

            "_Stupefy_!" Nothing. "_Impedimenta_!" Zilch. "_Locomotor Mortis_!" What was going on!?! "Bloody hell! _Petrificus Totalus_!"

            "Stubborn git," Ron said as he watched Draco's face turn mortified at his complete lack of magic. "You. Can't. Do. Spells."

            A sinking feeling spread throughout his whole body, a feeling worse then the dizziness, the nausea and the aching throbs. He couldn't do magic? The one thing he could always count on – the one thing that made him proud of who he was – the one thing that before never turned it's back on him… gone? No. It couldn't have. "_Rictusempra_!! _Reducto_! _Tarantallegra_!_Engorgio_!_DiffindoAvisIncenDIOSONORUS_–"

            "Draco!"

            No… no… "FURNUNCULUS!"

            "… stop it!"

            He couldn't have lost it. "LUMOS!!" A burst of light sprouted from his wand.

.:. TBC .:.

What IS to happen?

Next part: Draco fights back and tries to run away, but as the potion's boundary effect is still in effect, finds himself incapable of leaving. He is soon adopted (unwillingly in his part) into the Weasley clan.

Not that great of a summary, but hey, more stuff happens ^^ Features more Draco – how can you resist?

I'm in the process of moving into a new house so I'll be lacking a computer for a while. Needless to say, the next chapter may take awhile (which is why this one came out so fast)

Please be patient!

.:. cyn .:.


	3. Chapter 2: The Burning Dragon

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the delay!! BUT I have an excuse: I temporarily didn't have access to a computer ^^ The difficulties of moving…

LadyRhiyana: (as for your questions)

-"What did Snape mean when he explained Draco wouldn't be able to do magic for 12 hours, but predicted Draco would break it in two?"

It was to show Snape's very high regard of Draco. An average wizard is usually incapable of breaking the spell's effects within 12 hours, but since Snape thinks so highly of Draco, he says that Draco will not only break the spell's effects within 12 hours, but within 2 hours.

-"Are Slytherins magically stronger than other Houses?"

Not in my fic. Hermione can still kick Draco's (cute) butt anytime ^________^

Thanks to all those who reviewed! This chapter is for you ^~

Disclaimer: I do not own HP and all characters therein.

Discordant Harmony 

Chapter 2

            Malfoy Manor was everything everyone expected of it. It was huge and looming even compared to the other manors in the neighboring vicinity. The outside and inside of the manor didn't greatly differ. For one, both were just as cold and two, both were just as bare. Paintings of deceased and polished ancestors decorated some walls accompanied by a few light fixtures. The most decorated was the part of the house that was off-limits to everyone other then Lucius and those he chose at the time of entrance to join him. The accents of those particular corridors and dungeons need not be questioned.

            The most used room in the whole manor was the dining area. The room itself was big and spacious, but what seemed larger still was the chandelier that hung from the high ceiling above. Looping lines weaved themselves into each other at the center and then promptly flowed outward in waves of pure gold to end, inevitably, by candles held by nothing else but magic. Below it held the long, undecorated dining table that - at the very end - was seating Lucius Malfoy and his wife, Narcissa.

            Lucius was calmly taking his tea with the _Daily Prophet_ propped open. "Can't scorn Fudge for his stupidity. He's still calling all the attacks works of 'wannabe Death Eaters.'" He chuckled as he flipped to the next page. "Can you imagine, my dear?" He waited to hear his wife's own opinion – to hear her own scorn towards Fudge's cowardice – but the room was silent. Bending the tip of the paper slightly, he glanced towards his wife.

            She was still as beautiful as the day he wed her. The long graceful neck, the perfect smooth skin and the sharp gray eyes - gray eyes that were staring longingly towards the empty seat opposite her. Lucius own eyes traveled towards the empty chair.

            His eyes would usually land on his son, the lucky possessor of his father's immaculate blonde hair and power, but also the inheritor of his mother's sharp gray eyes and mind. 'Draco,' he thought, but then a picture of his Master came and with it his Master's words. 'Your son has chosen the side of the Phoenix. He is to be killed.' He had protested, of course, but it was futile. 'Your hand shall take his life. If you are truly my servant, you'll do this.' There was no other answer or he would have died on the spot. 'Yes, Master.'

            A cool voice sliced into his thoughts: "I want my son back."

            Lucius looked towards her. Her eyes rose to meet his. "I don't care what He says – I want my son back!" Her voice was just as steady as his, but years together allowed him to know the truth behind that steady voice. Her eyes were wide and glossy and he put his hand atop hers.

            "He hears and sees all, my dear. Choose your words carefully."

            Narcissa nodded as she took a sip of tea. Her hand was trembling. Lucius stroked it. "For now, don't worry," he whispered gently to her as he tugged her to come towards him. She obeyed and got up to sit on his lap. He laid her hand slightly above his heart. "He's still alive."

            Narcissa nodded yet again as she unbuttoned her husband's shirt and opened it to display the black dragon symbol that was emblazoned on his chest, and her son's. The dragon seemed to be moving. "As long as it's there, Draco's fine." But Narcissa didn't hear it as she was tracing the dragon mark carefully with her finger. She was memorizing it again even though she already had years past. "Love," he tilted her chin up so their eyes met. Seeing he got her attention, he stroked her cheek softly as he again marveled at his wife's beauty. Her fingers were still caressing the dragon mark. "I'll get him back."

            "Promise?" He remained silent.

            After buttoning his shirt back and clasping on his cloak, she got up. Walking towards the door, she turned. "If you love him, you will get him back. If you love me, you'll protect our son from _Him_." Turning around and opening the door, she added, "Or I will never forgive you."

            Lucius watched as she walked out and closed the door. He watched as the doorknob wound back to it's original position and stilled. His hand reached towards the dragon on his chest and it stayed there for a while. Siding with Voldemort meant protection for Narcissa – his wife and love. Siding with Voldemort meant protection for Draco – his son and his heir. This was to keep them safe. But now one was to die because of it. 'This isn't how it's supposed to be.'

            "M-master?" a highly nasal voice interrupted him from his thoughts. His eyes turned towards his newly acquired house elf. Jive, wasn't it? "There's a Mr. Borgin at the front door. He said –"

            "Show him in."

            "Yes, Master." The house elf disappeared from the doorway entrance and after a few moments Mr. Borgin, the owner of Borgin and Burkes, appeared.

            Lucius still had his hand to his chest. Closing his eyes, he inhaled. "I presume you have it?"

            "Yes," Mr. Borgin said as he took out his wand and magicked something that was behind him. A medium sized box, large enough to fit a decent cauldron, floated into the room. "Rather hard to find these, nowadays, since most were destroyed when the Dark Lord was destroyed." Lucius eyes fixed on him, his eyebrow raised.

            "Destroyed? Lord Voldemort was never destroyed."

            Mr. Borgin smiled as he ran a hand through his greasy hair. "So it's true - all the talk about Him rising again is true? Has He truly come back?" Lucius remained silent. "Oh, Mr. Malfoy! Is this for Him?" He swished his wand and allowed the box to settle down on the floor next to Lucius. "If so, Mr. Malfoy, please tell Him that Borgin and Burkes is _always_ open to His needs."

            "I'm sure, Mr. Borgin," Lucius responded as he picked up the box. "Thank you for your troubles."

            "No, thank you, sir," he responded eagerly as he cast the spell to open the box. As the box opened, black light poured out and when it cleared, a mirror lay at the very bottom. Lucius bent forward and brought forth the item. It wasn't distinctive in any way. The silver polishing around the mirror was even already corroding. The mirror itself appeared dulled by the passage of time and the lack of attention given to it. Lucius felt a scowl form – how could this be…? "Don't be fooled by its appearance, Mr. Malfoy," Mr. Borgin said as he stepped forward towards the mirror. "It took many Muggles' lives due to its seemingly ordinary appearance."

            "Are you comparing me to a pathetic Muggle, Mr. Borgin?" Lucius asked, his passive demeanor still intact, but an icy edge now interlaced into his words. Mr. Borgin took a slight step back.

            "O-Of course not, Mr. Malfoy," he began. "I didn't think before I –"

            "As you clearly showed," Lucius said. "What a pity the mirror hadn't claimed your life as well. Much less of a nuisance you'd be and it'd also do you a favor: shut you up for eternity. Then there'd be no need to have to, how would you say it?, 'think before you speak' no?"

            Mr. Borgin bowed his head, more so to conceal his rising anger then for obedience. "You are right, Mr. Malfoy."

            "Yes, I am, aren't I? Especially since the customer is _always_ right." Lucius turned the mirror and caught his reflection. At first the image before him was dull, but as he stared longer, his blur-like appearance began to sharpen clearly defining his physical attributes. In the background of his reflection (what should have been the high-backed black chair) were faces – dozens of faces contorted and in pain. "Especially me."

            "Yes, Mr. Malfoy."

            "Do you know the origins of this mirror, Mr. Borgin?" Lucius asked as he tore his concentration away from the glassy surface. He could already feel the mirror's effects – the mirror was already calling for his soul. Mr. Borgin shook his head.

            "Salazar Slytherin created this mirror – the glass was supposedly contrived from the venom of his personal Basilisk. It was forged to do what the Basilisk was capable of doing: kill those that looked towards it. Salazar Slytherin planned to give the mirror to all the Muggles that attempted to attend Hogwarts, but during the creation of this," Lucius held up the mirror so that it caught Mr. Borgin's reflection, "_Repercus_, Salazar was still in Hogwarts arguing with Godric Gryffindor. When Godric found out about _Repercus_ he was in an uproar." With a slight tilt of the mirror, the reflection not only caught Mr. Borgin's reflection, but Mr. Borgin also caught his on the mirror. "Naturally, all-righteous Godric couldn't allow such a dangerous item to exist. He attempted to destroy it, but was incapable of doing so. The mirror was forged too well. The other two founders tried to destroy it, but they too were incapable."

            Lucius's eyes traveled to Mr. Borgin. His wand lay forgotten on the floor – his pupils were dilated. A smirk traveled its way towards Lucius's lips. "Not knowing what else to do, they confronted Salazar Slytherin about it. He was to either destroy it or they will punish him by taking his life. He was strong, but even he couldn't take all three founders at the same time. However, he couldn't destroy what he forged either and, therefore, in an attempt to appease the founders (and therefore save his life) he cast another spell upon _Repercus_ that made it of some use. For _Repercus_ will be capable of locating any person despite whatever magic may cover them. But, the Basilisk venom was still in the mirror and thus it's thirst for life – and this, Mr. Borgin, is what greatly appeased the founders."

            Mr. Borgin, however, was now kneeling upon the floor, his shoulders slack and his chin resting heavily on his chest. "For the only life _Repercus_ is capable of taking is the life of those who had done evil – great evil, Mr. Borgin. Just like the taking of numerous lives without guilt. And with that life is the payment for _Repercus_'s services." Mr. Borgin's body thudded towards the floor. The corroded silver flashed and in an instant, the once old, dull mirror turned into brand new. Lucius turned the mirror to face him and he met Mr. Borgin's contorted and horrified face. "And you, Mr. Borgin, killed for this mirror. You are its payment."

            The mirror's surface shortly began to swirl black and in another moment, it cleared to show Lucius's reflection. "_Repercus_," he whispered and the mirror responded to its name as it floated out of his hand and positioned itself in the air in front of him. "Locate: Draco Malfoy."

i.

            Hermione stared at the light that was shining weakly at the tip of Draco's wand. A wand that was shaking. A hand that was trembling. Hermione looked again at the boy she thought she knew so well and realizing how wrong she was. The gray eyes were still there, the pale and pointed face, the thin lips and blonde hair and yet... there was something else. Something else about his eyes. And then she saw it.

            Yes they were gray; they were deep and gray and mesmerizing. But now they were also open. Unguarded. They were full of emotion – full of relief. And it was that, that one thing that made him so different. He was showing an emotion. 

            He was unmasked.

            To her disappointment, Draco recovered and began waving his wand threateningly at them in a spar-like fashion. "What were you saying, Weasley?" He said. The openness was gone. The emotion erased.

            Ron frowned. It should have been impossible to break the potion's effects - even temporarily - in less then half an hour. And yet, Draco broke it in less then 5 minutes. "How'd you do that?"

            "Because you fibbed, Weasley," Draco said, feeling in his own element. This was the same. This arguing – this feeling. "There is no such potion that can produce effects to limit a wizard's power when he or she is in dire need of it. The natural instinct within any wizard or witch is to use magic – it cannot be controlled."

            "Then why didn't it work before?"

            Draco sputtered, not knowing. He wasn't even sure whether what he said was true or not. But, it _did_ make sense. The light at the tip of his wand proved it. "It doesn't matter now, now does it?" Waving his wand yet again in front of them, doing a quick slash, he added, "Now move, Weasley."

            "Or what?" Ron smirked, not moving an inch away from his position of blocking the doorway. "Going to light me to death?"

            "No, but I can stab you, can't I?"

            Ron withdrew his wand and held it out in front of him. "Since you just threatened me, Draco, I do believe it's in my right to use magic in self-defense." Moving his wand upwards, he said, "And unlike you, I have no potion effects to subdue me in anyway."

            Draco was faster. "_Bilarious_!" The small light that had shone so weakly at the tip of his wand burst brighter, filling the room with such an intensity of light that all that had faced the wand was temporarily blinded – except for the caster. 

            The effects could only last for a few seconds, but Draco didn't waste them. Once the spell left his mouth – and after he felt a short, but powerful wave of dizziness engulf and leave him – he was already on the stairs jumping downwards, not caring that as each flight he descended, the contents of his stomach was increasingly progressing to come spilling out of his mouth. By the third flight ('_HOW MANY FLIGHTS ARE THERE!?!?_' Draco thought) he could hear the loud cursing of Ron.

            'Just run,' he thought as he willed his feet to move faster. By the last flight his legs slightly gave way, making his body bang against the landing floor, but he scrambled up and stood in what the Weasley's must have called their living room. The whole place looked cluttered and the materials of the furniture were so worn that Draco had to flinch in momentary disgust. 'By Merlin… they really _are_–' But he couldn't think of that now since he could hear footsteps descending (quickly) down the stairs.

            "Do they _not_ know how to stay quiet for at _least_ –" A woman was coming from his left. He didn't see her, but by the 'tsk'-ing she was doing, she was close. Draco made a mad dash to his right, wondering where the hell the exit was in this damn Weasley maze. The swinging door led him to another room in the Weasley house and from the sink that was cleaning dishes and the refrigerator that seemed to be smacking at him, he realized he had just entered the kitchen. A grimace made its way to his face. Do they not know how to _clean_? But as he tried to survey the room for an exit outside, he realized that the kitchen wasn't _dirty_ (it was actually very clean) but it was the state of the furnishings that ruined the room. The wood was chipped and the paint was peeling…

            Someone crashed into someone since Draco could hear the resounding flesh upon flesh from where he was. "_RON WEASLEY!!!!_" That same feminine voice from earlier screeched out and Draco heard a lot of mumblings and further crashes of flesh upon flesh.

            Draco felt the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. 'Only a Weasley.'

            A screeching sound from his immediate right was heard seconds before a hard, but feathery, _thing_ collided with his skull. As he stumbled backwards, his shoulder banged against the wall and the mumbling outside the door stopped. 'What the _hell_ –?' When the stars cleared, in his hand was an owl. If he had the time, he would have stomped it into oblivion, but as he heard footsteps nearing him, all he could do with it was throw it (as hard as he could) to the other side of the room. He awaited to hear the crash of owl against wall, but he heard nothing. He looked up and saw an open window. Next to said open window was a door. 'Found you…'

            "STOP!" It was Ron. It seemed to always be that infuriating dolt that kept opening his mouth. Draco turned around and there he was (and, Draco noted with satisfaction, Ron had a bump forming on the right side of his head) with the rest of the entourage behind him. All were panting.

            "And who made you boss, Weasley?" Draco asked. With a smirk that made Ron's fists clench, Draco dashed towards the door. The door gave way with his push and he was out. The sun was high in the clear blue sky. The birds were chirping, the grass was green, and the heat was intense. Draco staggered as the exertions he just pulled were really beginning to take effect. His stomach's contents (that had been steadily rising since his descent down the stairs) reached his esophagus making his throat constrict. His head spun and he had to grasp the doorknob to stop from falling. His eyes focused on the fence that was only a few yards ahead, but seemed further.

            "Just get past the fence," he said aloud, his eyes closing as he tried to gather his surroundings. The doorknob he was holding was close to being yanked out of his hands when Ron reached the other side. "Just get past the fence, Draco, get past it…" Turning around towards the door, he raised his wand. "_Occludes_!" The spell worked. Draco watched as his gray light hit the door making it temporarily impenetrable and as the people on the other side cried in surprise. For a moment he felt the hard ground beneath him give way, but as he clenched his fists to his head, the feeling stopped and passed. The ground came back. The door with the peeling paint was in front of him. Towards his back was his freedom.

            'But to what?' He thought as his father's image came accompanied by the image of Voldemort. His red eyes… that ugly and evil face… the dead bodies…

            "Damn it! _Step back_!" It was Hermione's voice that reached his ear and woke him out his daze. "_Dissip_–"

            Before she could finish her spell, Draco regained control of his legs and was forcing them to run towards the fence. The first two lunges forward went by fine, but by the third he was gasping by the seemingly lack of air. By the fourth his body got heavier causing his legs to shake. At the fifth lunge forward he almost fell as something seemed to have fallen onto his shoulders. The air was getting heavy – he was being pushed towards the floor by something he couldn't see.

            'Bloody hell,' he thought as he forced his legs to rise despite the invisible pressure that was pushing his body downward. 'Damn it, damn it, _damn it_… I will _not_ _give up_!' He forced his leg forward and he took a step.

            The backyard door cast open and he could hear as the Weasleys were running up from behind him. Granger's spell had broken his. Draco had to compliment her if she wasn't so damn annoying. The air was getting heavier and his head was beginning to spin. Collapsing to his knees, he stared towards the white fence when he saw it. It was a quick flash, but it was there. Two burning eyes that were in slits formed briefly against the white paint of the fence and what followed was a burning – an intense burning coming from his chest – from his dragon. 

            His birthmark – his dragon – had turned bright red.

ii.

            The spell was strong – shockingly strong.

            Ginny Weasley staggered backwards till her back hit the wall as if the light was some vicious beast trying to rip her into shreds. Well, it was somewhat. Her eyes felt as if they've already been ripped into shreds. She wasn't just shocked about the intense light, however. The fact that Malfoy was able to_ do_ any magic was still astounding her.

            When the light cleared Malfoy was gone. The banging against walls and stomping of feet told everyone he was still descending the stairs. In a heartbeat, everyone was running down the stairs after him. Ginny stayed behind, of course. There was no use joining the bunch to go chasing after him. Even though he broke the potion's ban on spell casting, the potion still had within its contents Jinhryn, a powerful and rare plant that if consumed would cause the consumer to be incapable of walking any further then 8 feet, the length of it's roots. In potion form, however, Professor Snape must have grinded the roots and sprinkled them around her house – not even Dumbledore could break the plant's effects. 

There was no use worrying over Malfoy escaping.

            Ginny smirked. 'Since mom's fixing the garage, the only way he could go is to the kitchen,' she thought as she went to the window that faced the backyard. 'And the only way out from there is –"

            A silhouette of a boy came bursting out of the backdoor and Ginny heard 'Ta-dah!' make it's way across her mind. Draco Malfoy. Whenever she saw him in school, he always looked so collected and reserved – he was assured of himself and who he was going to be. He was also a complete prick. But now… 

            Ginny's brow furrowed. Now, he looked malnourished and sick. His shoulders were heaving as if strained (most likely _were_) and by his slight sway and shaky grasp of the doorknob, she knew he was at the brink of fainting. But he didn't faint; she didn't expect him to. 

            When it was her turn to watch over the slumbering Malfoy, she expected to see what she always saw: a vulnerable face. Ron looks vulnerable when he sleeps, her father looks vulnerable when he sleeps, even _Harry_ looks vulnerable, but Malfoy looked far from it. It was a bit scary seeing a bruised face that still looked just as dignified and collected as when those swollen eyes were open. It was odd, but it fitted him: a man without vulnerability.

            And yet, looking down at him grasping that doorknob in an attempt not to faint, she couldn't help but wonder who he is. Is he really that self-assured guy? Is he really so collected? Looking down at him, she could hear 'no' echoing the questions. For the boy down there looked lost. Lost and confused.

            Draco seemed to have cast another spell since a flash of light hit the door and Ginny could feel the magical attributes of it. Again, it was surprisingly strong for someone who still had the potion in his system. But then she saw it – she saw the effects of casting a spell. Draco teetered and almost collapsed if he wasn't so damn determined to not fall. Within a heartbeat he recovered (but by the haggard face he wore Ginny could see it was no easy feat) he was sprinting towards the fence. Halfway there he staggered. By the quick flash of gold on the grass he stood, she knew that it was Jinhyrn's effects he was undergoing.

            'You can't break this one,' Ginny thought as he struggled. 'So just stop.'

            But he didn't. He got back up and took another step. This time he fell down lower. Her lower lip made it's way between her teeth and she had the odd urge to scream at him for being such an idiot. To scream at him to stop because all he was doing was hurting himself. She wanted to scream at him to stop hurting himself – to stop hurting. But that was a quick urge that came and went before she could really grasp it and she was left standing at the window to watch in a quiet and confused anxiety.

            A blast of wood hitting stone resounded from what used to be her backdoor, but was now just a few remnants of broken wood. Hermione broke Draco's spell. As for him, he was kneeling on the ground and Ginny felt the anxiety filter its way out of her. He had finally gotten it through his thick skull – he finally submitted to Jinhryn's will. But as her eyes traveled over his body, she noted that his head was bowed causing her to be incapable of seeing his face, but he was clearly looking at something. His chest. Her heart felt as if it missed a beat. Red shone against the sun's rays. Was he bleeding?!

            "Fred! Don't!" She yelled, but Fred's feet were off the ground before her words reached him and his too-tall frame was careening itself towards Draco's back. 

            She ran for the door to the staircase.

iii.

            Ginny was a fast runner (more due to her lithe frame then actual height – she was, fortunately, gifted with her mother's height and not her father's) but she wasn't fast enough. By the time she reached the backyard to the stifling heat, not only was Fred on top of Malfoy, but George, Ron and Harry. 

            She was relieved to see a squirming and not dead Draco beneath them. "Get off of me you bloody–!" She heard a muffled yell that could only belong to him. Harry, having the common sense to realize that Malfoy couldn't least that long beneath all of them, got up and pulled the rest of them off. Draco Malfoy was lying face first in dirt, breathing heavily and looking furious. Tired and worn out, but furious. "What spell did you put on me, Mudblood?" Draco spit out towards Hermione and everything Ginny thought as she watched him struggle to the fence flew out the door. Draco Malfoy lost and confused? Her bony little ass!

            Ginny, though not receiving the legendary Weasley height, made up for it by receiving the Weasley temper tenfold. Having Draco Malfoy fool her by sympathizing with him undid the lid. Erupted the volcano. Or, Ginny's personal favorite, sprung forth the Weasel. "I can't _believe_ you!" She screamed. It seemed that no one had noticed her arrival since everyone, including Malfoy, gave a startled jump. Malfoy's eyes swiveled to her. "Mudblood? _Mudblood_!? Hermione, and the rest of us, _worried_ about you and instead of being grateful of having your bun _saved_ by Voldemort," she noticed that at the mention of the name, his eyes clouded, "you instead act like an asshole by blinding us, running away and now calling one of us that _filthy_ name." Ah… there, that felt better. But the angry Weasel was sprung forth and it wouldn't stop there. Her feet had a will of it's own – her hands as well. Somehow she had stomped her way next to his laying body and she kneeled down beside him.

            "Aren't you at least going to say something? 'Thank you for saving me' should be among the first things coming out of your mouth, but as for right now what I should be hearing is 'I'm sorry Hermione for being a complete bastard.'" She sat there, returning his burning gaze with her own. She was surprised at herself. These temper flares were rare and far between. 

            "How about this?" Draco finally began to drawl as his eyes left hers and they were now staring straight at the cloudless sky above. "I couldn't care less of what you guys did because _I don't need your help_." Ginny felt her fists clench. And the weasel was so close to going back into its little box deep inside her too. "I don't CARE for your help. I don't WANT your help. Especially when it's help from _Weasleys_ and a _Mudblood_." His eyes were again on hers. They were challenging her. Those deep gray eyes were challenging her to do something about that. God, what a bloody pain in the ass. 

            "Is that so?" she asked, standing back up. "You don't need our help, is it? Well then, _fine_. _Don't_ accept our help. Lay there for as long as you wish. When you finally decide to get your head out of your butt and realize that you're in no position to be talking all high and mighty," she dug through her pockets and took out the new prank toy that Fred and George had 'tested' on her previous Draco's awakening, "squeeze this." She put the small round ball into his free hand. By the look in his eyes, she knew he wanted to throw it, but he was physically exhausted and he lacked the strength to do so. "Until then, lay there and rot."

            She turned around and motioned everyone else to follow her. Her brothers each looked at her apprehensively and approvingly, following her retreat back to the house immediately. Harry was slower to react, still shocked in seeing the timid and quiet Weasley girl act like… like that… and only followed after her when he recovered from that shock. Hermione was less willing to leave Draco lying on the ground, but she eventually followed as well. Better for Draco to understand his position now then later. 

            When Ginny reached the footstep to get into the house, her temper had tampered off slightly and with it her resolve. She gave one last glance towards the prone body. He hadn't moved an inch. His eyes were still directed to the sky. She wondered what he was thinking. Her temper tampered off some more and her resolve to leave him there was quickly slipping away. About to turn back and tell her brothers to carry Malfoy inside, she felt something whiz by her face and at the wall. It was the newly made _Garlo_, her brother's newest invention that when squeezed would rush towards the nearest person and transform into what that person feared most for a few seconds. When thrown at a high velocity against a wall, it breaks.

            The toy she had given Malfoy to call her was now splattered against the door, broken.

            Ginny swirled around and glared at Malfoy who had propped himself up to throw _Garlo_. He was smirking. "I don't need help!" He yelled before he promptly fell back down.  

            The weasel was sprung. Her resolve came back. "We'll see! I give you two hours before you start crying for us to help!" Twirling back around, she stomped into the kitchen. 

iv.

            Two hours past that soon led to five. Then eight. The sun was down.

            Ginny Weasley was biting her nails.

            The family sat around the kitchen table, quiet, eating their dinner. Ginny couldn't eat. She glanced towards the clock and then towards the newly acquired backdoor (after Hermione profusely apologized for the broken door, she and the boys made a temporary replacement). 'That stubborn brat,' she thought as she again glanced towards the clock. The day was very humid before, but the temperature was quickly dropping. He was only wearing that silken robe… it couldn't be very warm…

            "Getting awfully cold fast," Percy said as he tried to break the tension Ginny's mood was creating. Ginny looked at him, her fear confirmed. "Draco must be…"

            "Cold, right?" Ginny said, mumbling more so to herself then to her brother. "And hungry. Must be starving right now. He hasn't eaten in two days… you don't think…?"

            "It was your idea to just leave him out there," Ron said. "He _is_ a prick, but just leaving him there seems a bit… extreme… especially since he can't even get up."

            Ginny bit her lower lip. "But it's his fault. He has to realize–"

            "I agree with Ginny," Hermione said. Ginny gave her a grateful smile. "But," Ginny's smile vanished, "Draco must be going through hell as it is. He just betrayed his father who he admired so highly. His world is being turned upside down. He's confused and probably scared and he doesn't know how to cope with it. So he's acting like this – like the way he always acts. Behind a mask. Behind a façade because he's not used to it being any other way at a time when he practically lost everything."

            The table became silent. Ginny lowered her head, her hands twining anxiously on her lap. If that's so, then –

             "I'd appreciate it, Mudblood," a drawling voice said from the doorway. Ginny jumped as did everyone else, "if you stop talking about me as if you knew me." Draco Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe dirty as hell and staring daggers at Hermione. Five gnomes were crowded at both his ankles. "Because you don't."

.:. TBC .:.

Haha… is it just me, but after I wrote/edited this chapter, whenever I came to the part of the mirror (_Repercus_) the thought of _Beauty and the Beast_ (specifically Beast's mirror) kept flashing into my mind?? Don't worry, I intended no rip-off ^^ I think…

Next Chapter: Lucius visits his son. Also: all magical items have consequences for their use (other then payment); _Repercus_ is no exception.

.:. cyn .:.


	4. Chapter 3: Exsisto Tutus

Author's Note:  
  
I apologize for the delay in the updating of this fic. To be honest, I lost interest in Harry Potter gasp I know, shocking isn't it? Until I came across the 5th book and my interest was re-sparked. Book 5 is now my favorite in the series - it was worth the wait   
  
I tried to make this part worth the wait as well.  
  
A Special Thanks To: Darcel - thank you for your relentless request for an update!! You're truly an inspiration :)  
  
Hope you enjoy!  
  
Usual disclaimers apply.  
  
Discordant Harmony - Chapter 3  
  
He lay there for an hour.  
  
Four.  
  
The sky darkened.  
  
Draco cursed as he watched the first star twinkle into sight. Of all the damn luck, he thought. His damn luck, that was the cause of it all. Luck was the cause of him ending belly up in the Weasley yard with an invisible hippogriff-like force on top of him. Luck was the reason as to why he couldn't use magic to help him out of his current predicament.  
  
'Yes, easier to do it that way,' a voice whispered in his head. 'Blame it all on something other then yourself, right, Drake? But wouldn't that be the easy way out?'  
  
Draco's lips curved downwards. Easy way out? Of course not. It is the only way out. 'Stop lying' -an image accompanied the voice, an image of the boy in the cardboard hat grinning at him with two front teeth missing and his front shirt covered in chocolate - 'Can you really say that he had nothing to do with it?' That's right – nothing to do with it at all. 'But that's lying, isn't it?' –the same boy on his knees, the dead bodies of his loved ones spilled all around him in grotesque symmetry- 'That boy had everything to do with it.'  
  
Unconsciously, Draco's head shook slowly from side to side. 'You felt disgusted: the whole scene got you disgusted. Voldemort's actions made you sick. His cruelty was wrong, right, Drake?' –the little boy sobbing and twisting on the floor under the Cruciatus Curse- 'That was disgustingly cruel. Even though he was a Mudblood – Mudbloods' "do not deserve this."' Draco's head shook faster. 'So Voldemort disgusts you. Meaning what, Drake?'  
  
Draco closed his eyes.  
  
'Voldemort disgusts you. Your father follows Voldemort.' –his father reading the Daily Prophet in the dining room hall with his hand knowingly or unknowingly caressing his mother's hand- 'Meaning what?' I love my father. 'You disgust your father.'  
  
"Stop it," his voice was growing steadier, his fists curling up into fists.  
  
'But that's not the real problem, though,' the voice continued and Draco's head was slowly beginning to pound. 'No, there's still the main problem, the one you have been avoiding. Do you know the problem, Drake?' I do not hear you... 'You're disgusted at yourself.'  
  
Draco opened his eyes that he had unknowingly closed tight. The sky was dark and dozens more now accompanied that previous lone star. Was he disgusted at himself? The pounding in his head disappeared, the voice gone and the wind in the leaves the only sound to reach his ears. Draco breathed in deeply and for the first time in a long time, he smiled.  
  
'Disgusted at myself?' A small chuckle escaped his dry lips. Ridiculous. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he whispered towards the sky above. The smile grew bigger and, with another first for a long time, he felt energy begin to flood back to his body. That hippogriff-force he had felt forcing him down before even seemed to lessen and he lifted his upper body high enough to turn over and get on all fours. He chuckled again, his spirits lifting. "Disgusted at myself?" he asked aloud, feeling the words on his tongue and found it satisfyingly alien to him. "Disgusted at myself." He crawled forward, crawling on all fours like a baby... like an animal. The thought surprised and amused him, allowing another chuckle to escape his lips. Yes, an animal. Right now he was just like an animal, crawling back towards the Weasley's house. A bloody animal on all fours, disgusted at himself.  
  
He paused in his crawl. No, that was wrong. The smile faded and the pounding sensation he had felt earlier was slowly creeping its way back into his head. 'I'm disgusted at myself...?' "Bloody hell," he whispered as his left hand left the ground to go to his temple in an unconscious attempt to try and soothe the oncoming onslaught in his head. However, his hand never reached his temple. Rather his jaw careened into his hand as his now unsupported left side fell forward towards the floor and his already weakened right side, incapable of supporting all the weight, followed suit.  
  
Draco saw stars and dots and swirls of other images for a while as his jaw joined in the mumbo jumbo that his stomach, head and now hand had began to play. Wonderful, he cursed as he blinked his eyes to 1) try to hold back the tears of pain, and 2) to see what exactly that weird brown shape that seemed to be moving in front of him was. When his eyes cleared, he was staring face to face with what seemed to be a gnome. What confused him at first was that his gnomes were usually very small and skinny. This particular gnome that sat on it's haunches and stared curiously at him was quite the opposite. It was at least twice the size of the gnome's he was used to and twice as wide as well.  
  
"Aren't you well taken care of," he mumbled even though it felt as if fire was racing it's way across his jaw line as he spoke. The gnome cocked his head to the side. "Wish I could do that too without having my head slammed to the ground. Like so," Draco mumbled on, ignoring the pain, trying to ignore everything that was throbbing in his body. "But as you could probably see, I'm pretty much stuck here with my face in the dirt and I can't do anything about it." It was actually working. If he concentrated on talking, the rest of the pains seemed to be lessening. For a time anyway. The gnome now stood up and Draco felt many little hands on the back of his head. "There are more of you behind me?" The fat gnome walked closer to his face. Draco sighed as he closed his eyes. What a befitting way to end this miserable day. To be beaten by garden gnomes. Were gnomes carnivorous creatures? Draco wondered. He peeked open an eye to see if he'd be seeing pointy teeth appear from that fat one's mouth. He was even considering whether he should struggle if he should feel his body being bitten apart...  
  
But instead, he felt stroking. Little caresses were making their ways around his head and this time Draco did feel something rise in him – surprise. He opened his eyes and he saw the fat one bending down, his hands under Draco's head and he was trying to raise his head up. An odd warmth rose from Draco's chest, the same kind of warmth he felt whenever his father would give him that swift curt nod that meant Draco had actually done something that pleased him and when his mother would put that slender hand of hers on his head whenever he returned home from Hogwarts. The gnome was straining harder now, the others behind his head also straining to lift Draco's head, to help him get up...  
  
... Or not.  
  
Draco looked downwards towards the ground and saw that he hadn't landed on his hand as he had believed. No, not at all. He landed on a gnome. A small gnome, it must have been a child. He lay still beneath his head and Draco thought it dead – before it began twitching. The warm feeling vanished. Bloody gnomes weren't trying to help him. They were trying to help this twitching gnome-kid. 'By Merlin, I've become a bloody tart,' he thought. But then an idea struck. Draco Malfoy, after all, cannot be a bloody tart. When his head was high enough for a full gnome to go underneath and grab the twitching gnome-kid, Draco slinked his hand from underneath and grabbed the twitching kid in his palm. The gnomes that were about his head froze.  
  
Draco smiled.  
  
"What are you doing? Don't stop," he said. The gnome-kid underneath his palm was beginning to still again. The gnomes holding his head still didn't move. "If you want this kid back, you better not stop," he said as he tightened his hold over what he held. The gnomes about his head made noises to each other, and even though Draco couldn't understand gnome-talk, he could still understand the tone: they would obey him.  
  
'Disgusting?' that voice whispered to him, but he brushed the question aside.  
  
"I'm Draco Malfoy," he said and a smile returned to his lips.  
  
i.  
  
"I'd appreciate it, Mudblood," a drawling voice said from the doorway, "if you stop talking about me as if you knew me." Draco Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe dirty as hell and staring daggers at Hermione. Five gnomes were crowded at both his ankles. "Because you don't."  
  
He had meant to say that and then leave, but then Mrs. Weasley stood up and did something he did not expect her to do - nor anyone else. With a swift motion of her arm and thus her wand, she had summoned forth a chair and spellbound him to that said chair.  
  
"Bloody hell!" he yelled, trying to reach for his wand even though he knew it would do no good. The spell was (surprisingly) very strong and even if he had his wand in his hand he couldn't have cast any more spells – he was completely drained.  
  
He hated it.  
  
Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Fred, George - kindly make some room for Draco." Fred and George obliged and Mrs. Weasley cast another spell and Draco's chair was dragged to the table.  
  
"You better let me go, Weasley, or I'll-!" But Draco was out of threats and he just let that one go, struggling more against the spell and getting dizzy because of his struggle. His stomach was twisting and turning inside him as his nose inhaled the pleasant scent of fried chicken, but he ignored it.  
  
He'd rather die from starvation then eat food with a Weasley. And a Potter. And a Mudblood.  
  
"Or you'll what?" Ron asked as little pieces of the fried chicken spilled from his mouth as he spoke. Hermione quickly nudged him and he swallowed his food before he continued. "What are you going to do, Draco?"  
  
He didn't respond. This was partly due to the fact that the smell of the food was driving him mad and also partly due because he had nothing else to say. What would... what could he do? 'I could eat,' a little voice whispered inside him and his stomach grumbled as if in agreement. 'The meat must be tender and soft... and look at those potatoes...'  
  
But he shook himself out of it. He won't. He won't-won't-won't-won't... and then Fred took a bite out of a leg in front of him and Draco felt his mouth fill with liquid and his teeth clack against each other in an involuntary chewing motion. His stomach grumbled again, louder this time. 'Never eat with a Weasley...' he thought as his eyes stayed fixated at the table with the plates that were crying out for him, welcoming him, urging him to just shut his fat trap, swallow his pride, and dig his teeth into the tender meat...  
  
He shook his head. Then shook it some more. Mrs. Weasley was still standing, her welcoming smile unwavering as she watched Draco shake his head. Summoning a plate from the kitchen, she briskly began to top it with food. "Come now, Draco, you must be starving if your tummy is making such a protest," Mrs. Weasley said. But he continued to shake his head and she laid the plate in front of him. "What's wrong, Draco dear? Not hungry?" Another rumble filled the room as if in response to that question. "Draco–"  
  
No. Draco stopped shaking his head and looked clearly towards the plate of food in front of him. He would rather eat a pile of shit then rely... receive help from a Weasley. Weasleys: a pureblood family that is disgracing the wizard name by associating with Muggles and Mudbloods. Looking straight at the food his stomach stopped growling. Actually, the pain disappeared altogether. Now he felt weak and tired and more then anything else, he felt like him again. His mind was clear. Looking up into Mrs. Weasley's eyes (such an odd glisten to them) he said, "I don't need anything from a Weasley."  
  
He wasn't sure what to exactly expect as those words left his mouth. Perhaps a yell from that Ron prick or another explosion from that red fireball or possibly even a slap in the face by the mother Weasley (they are such disgraceful wizards after all) but no, none of those possibilities happened. Instead the mother Weasley just put the plate calmly down in front of him and took her seat. Ron said nothing and just continued to eat. That little fireball – Ginny, wasn't it? – began picking at her food (nudging away the peas, Draco observed) and Harry and Hermione were eating away. Not even the Weasley dad – Arthur – said anything to protect the family name. Since surely, they weren't stupid enough to think that he did not mean an insult?  
  
"Well then, I'll leave the food there," Mrs. Weasley finally spoke up as she picked up her fork and spoon. "When you're hungry, you're welcome to eat it and any other food in the house. I just warn you to not touch any inconspicuous jars in the back of the cupboards – I don't know what Fred and George are concocting in those," she said with a half snort. Fred and George smiled at that remark.  
  
Draco sat there and stared at her. Was this lady serious? "What?"  
  
"Make yourself comfortable," the father Weasley answered and Draco, not expecting his response, jumped slightly startled, "is what Molly is trying to say." He gave Draco a smile and stabbed a broccoli with his fork. "But perhaps having you spellbound to a chair must have confused that message, eh, love?" He said to his wife as he took a bite off the broccoli head.  
  
Molly giggled. "Don't worry," she said as she pointed towards him. "I don't plan to have you like that the whole time you're staying here."  
  
"Oh? And how long do you plan to keep me imprisoned here?"  
  
"Imprisoned?" Ron snorted. "We're saving your bloody undeserving ass Malfoy. You're lucky mum was nice enough to let you stay. If Dumbledore asked me, I would have let you rot in the Leaky Cauldron until one of the Death Eaters–"  
  
"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley yelled. Ron shut up immediately.  
  
Draco's brows furrowed. 'We're saving your bloody undeserving ass': that's what Ron had said. 'Saving my ass.' Again that flash of the little boy on the floor crying, but this time Draco was standing in front of him – blocking him – because that was the only way the bloody tightness in his chest would disappear... because... 'Muggles do not deserve this.' His head felt the oncoming of yet another headache. Bloody hell... what had he done?! "Voldemort is after me."  
  
Mr. Weasley shared a look with Mrs. Weasley, as if asking for permission on whether being blunt or not with him was okay. It must have been a yes because Mr. Weasley responded with a nod. "Yes, he is. As well as those–"  
  
"Oh look at that! We ran out of mashed potatoes!" Mrs. Weasley briskly interrupted as she leaned forward and refilled the dish. In doing so she nudged Mr. Weasley (practically off his chair) and sent him that quick Shut- Up look that made him turn red.  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed. "As well as those...?"  
  
"It doesn't matter. Those things can be discussed later," Mrs. Weasley said. "So, Draco, dear." Draco looked at her, the pounding in his head thankfully receding to be replaced by that dull numbness that comes when you're starving. "Are you planning to eat?"  
  
'Yes,' his mind answered, but his mouth stayed shut. "I don't need anything from a Weasley," he repeated.  
  
Mrs. Weasley's oddly glistening eyes flinched from his words, but that glisten did not leave. "Well then, if I were to dispel the binds on you, what would you do?"  
  
"What could I do?" Though he didn't like it, actually despised it, Draco knew he was cornered. Which is why he made the gnomes help him crawl his way to the Weasley house and not away from the Weasley house. Obviously he couldn't run away – there was some other sort of spell put into place that prevented him – and plus, he was not sure exactly where he could run to now that he thought of it. Voldemort is after him. Meaning all the Death Eaters are after him. His father... But no, he would not think of that. He couldn't...  
  
"The smartest thing you've said all day," Ron said around his half-chewed food.  
  
Mrs. Weasley clucked her tongue as she sent Ron a disapproving gaze. "Don't talk with your mouth full."  
  
"But ma..."  
  
"What did I just tell you, Ronniekins?" she asked and now her eyes went towards him. Ron grumbled, but did as she asked. Closing his mouth, he began to chew the remainder of his food.  
  
If the circumstances were different, Draco would have laughed. Ron being reprimanded by his ma – it was just too hilarious. And the name? Ronniekins. C'mon! However, since he was starving to death and spellbound to a chair and his (bloody) pride was forbidding him to eat, he did not laugh. All he could muster was a smirk. Which was enough, for Ron at least.  
  
"What are you smirking at, Malfoy?" His mouth still had food in it as he spoke and the smirk on Draco's mouth grew larger.  
  
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Ronniekins," Draco said. Fred and George snorted, George snorting hard enough that a few pieces of chicken left his mouth to land unceremoniously on Ginny's hand. The table became dead quiet as all stared at the half-eaten, saliva-covered, mixed-with-gravy chicken piece. At first Ginny seemed rather calm. Which surprised Draco, considering most of what he's seen come from her was one volcano eruption after another (though it was mostly his fault, but Draco would never admit that). Slowly and almost delicately she took her napkin and wiped it off. The chicken was wiped off first, then the saliva and finally the gravy that had traveled down the length of her thumb.  
  
George gulped. Fred moved away from George. Draco, in the middle of the two twins, felt dread coming from the one on his left (the one who spit out the chicken piece) and pity from the other. "Now, Ginny, my loving, youngest and most favorite sister–"  
  
"I'm your only sister, George," she replied, just as calmly, just as timidly. The dread around the table grew.  
  
"Heh, yes, you are," George said as he nervously began to scrape his chair back. "Did I ever tell you how much you've matured over the years, Gin?"  
  
"Really, George, how so?"  
  
George was now slowly making his way up from the chair. "Well, like how it's been almost a month since you've last exploded. Well," he shared a look with Draco who was staring at the whole situation rather perplexed, "explosions towards your immediate family, of course." He had successfully risen from his chair and was now nervously tapping the back of it as he edged towards the makeshift back door.  
  
Ginny, too, then stood up. Draco's brows lifted. In his interest towards the situation, his nausea, dizziness, and starvation receded slightly and his brain (and eyes) were again functioning properly to notice that the Weasley fireball was actually pretty attractive when she isn't screaming in your face. Though her red hair was flat and her skin dulled by her numerous freckles – by Merlin, even her lips were too thin for her heart shaped face – she was attractive. Draco's smirk grew. 'Wow... I'm really out of it, aren't I? What's next? I'll think Potter is attractive?' He gave an inside chuckle. 'Though he does have such bright green eyes...' Draco's eyes widened and his stomach curled in disgust. What had he just thought?! "Oh fucking hell!"  
  
Ginny, ready to jump and pounce on her older brother to make him pay for spitting that disgusting ('No, Ginny, don't think about it') on her hand, was startled off as Draco Malfoy muttered those three devastatingly anguished words. Mrs. Weasley, concern written all over her face, leaped out of her chair and rushed to Draco's side.  
  
Draco was still groaning and muttering the words over and over. "Dear, are you all right?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she placed both her hands on his cheeks so that she could look him face-to-face. "Oh my goodness, Arthur! He's burning up!"  
  
Mr. Weasley got up and stood next to his wife and placed his hand on Draco's forehead. "I'll call for Madame Pomfrey..."  
  
"I'm fine you bloody gits!" Draco mumbled. A fever? He hadn't had a cold since... since forever. As his father had said numerous times: Malfoys don't get sick.  
  
But they ignored him. Mrs. Weasley's (cool and soft, Draco realized) hands still lingered on both his cheeks, soothing him into a somewhat lulled sleep. Arthur's hand was gently moving back and forth on his forehead. Perhaps wiping sweat away, though his head did not feel wet. He thought of his mother then, of how she would rub his forehead the same way Mr. Weasley was rubbing his forehead now whenever he had difficulty going back to sleep (this usually happening whenever he had a nightmare). Though Arthur's hand was much more rough, the motion was just as soothing and his eyes were beginning to get heavy.  
  
"George... Fred... carry him to Ron's bed." Mrs. Weasley's voice was beginning to recede as his eyes closed and as Mr. Weasley's soothing caress refused to waver. Mrs. Weasley then let go of his cheeks, but his head stayed in place with Mr. Weasley's hand. The tightness around his torso and arms disappeared and he swayed forward. He should have opened his eyes and outstretched his arms to help stop the fall downwards, but Mr. Weasley's soothing caress had made him far too tired (added on to the previous exertions he had pulled only hours before) and not even such an elementary reflex could be performed. However, Fred and George seemed to have followed their mother's order because he fell into two pairs of arms.  
  
He was readjusted as a pair of arms took his upper torso while a second his lower. His mind, clouded by black clouds and dots, could no longer halt the weariness enveloping him. Once he felt the soft mattress underneath his body and the blanket wrap around him, Draco succumbed to the darkness.  
  
For the third time in two days, Draco blacked out.  
  
ii.  
  
It had been two days since Draco had fainted in the kitchen. Arthur Weasley sat alone in front of the fireplace. Everyone else in the Weasley household was sleeping in their beds, one particular guest against his will. Arthur grinned as he thought about his new houseguest. Draco Malfoy. He was so much like his father, Lucius, that it was unnerving. Did one of his sons (or did them all) resemble him as much as Draco did to Lucius? Arthur shook his head, his smile widening. He dear hoped not. The world would not be a very safe place if there were 5 Arthur Weasleys running amok. Though the world isn't a very safe place as of now, either...  
  
'No.' Mentally willing himself away from that subject – of Voldemort and the raids and the death scenes that have been plaguing him for the past couple of days – he glanced towards the clock. It was half past midnight. He should be bone tired. And yes, he was. But he couldn't sleep. The lack of attacks made by Voldemort was making him nervous – nervous enough to be unable to get any shuteye. The trend that had been growing before the whole Draco fiasco was a growing amount of attacks against Muggles – not a decline. But ever since Draco had tried to save that boy... ever since Draco had been brought into his home... the attacks did indeed decline as well as everything else. It seemed as if everything was reverting back to normal. As if Voldemort was no longer out there. Which made the whole situation worse – it meant Voldemort was plotting something... something bigger to focus all his attention on...  
  
'Do they know Draco is here?'  
  
Arthur's eyes traveled up towards the ceiling and he visualized the prone body of the teenage boy in Ron's bed. Ginny must still be sitting next to him – or sleeping in a position that will make her ache all day later on today. At the thought of his daughter he couldn't help but smile. When Madame Pomfrey had been called and she announced that Draco had indeed caught a fever, his daughter had been mortified. Feeling responsible for his sickness, she had taken it upon herself to single-handedly nurse him back to health despite the objections of the rest of the family.  
  
Arthur chuckled as his thoughts again strayed back to the Malfoy heir. He had to admit, he was proud of the boy. It took guts to do what he did. It took a hell of a lot of balls to save a Muggle life in front of the eyes of your own Muggle-hating father and that horrible monster. Arthur smiled. Yes, he was very proud of him.  
  
The warmth of the fire and the soft cushion of the couch was finally beginning to take it's effects on his tired mind as it slipped into more pleasant thoughts: of days before Voldemort's rising, of days when all his worries were directed on rogue teapots and other miscellaneous Muggle- enchanted objects.  
  
And then he felt it. It was like a spring breeze as a flow of air brushed against his cheek. Arthur's eyes immediately opened as his hand went to his wand. "Who's there?" he asked as he turned around in a full circle. But there was no one. Again he felt that breeze and he realized it was coming from the front door, seeping through the cracks between the doorframe and door. Arthur moved closer to the door, his hands in front of him making sure the origins were indeed originating from there. As his hand neared the side crack, he indeed felt that breeze. He glanced towards the windows. They were open. The drapes were not moving.  
  
"Who is there?" He now asked, loud enough so that whoever (or whomever) was behind the door could hear, but low enough so that no one upstairs would wake. Maybe he should call down the twins...  
  
There was no answer to his question, but rather the wind just grew stronger. Arthur pictured his sleeping wife, his children in their beds, of Harry and Hermione sleeping peacefully in their cots, and of Draco. Draco. Arthur raised his wand towards the door. It could be nothing and it could be everything. He will not risk it. "Reducto!" A flash of orange shot forth from his wand and at the door and in a matter of seconds, the door was reduced into splinters. But Arthur was not done. With another flick of his wand, he was about to cast his next spell to freeze whoever was there, but as the spell began to leave his mouth, the dust cleared to show he faced an empty front porch. Arthur sputtered the spell to a stop.  
  
"Still as rash and idiotic as ever, I see," a voice said. Lucius Malfoy stepped into view from the side of the door. "Hello, Weasley."  
  
Arthur raised his wand, ready to cast the freezing charm, but Lucius raised both his hands to show that he was not holding a wand. "Don't. It's not needed." Arthur still kept his wand pointed at Lucius's body.  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
"You know why," Lucius replied, his dark blue eyes staring straight into Arthur's brown ones. "We're both fathers."  
  
Arthur's wand hand faltered slightly, but it did not go down. "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy."  
  
Lucius lowered his hands to his sides. "Are you going to continue to point that wand of yours at me forever or are you going to be civilized and invite me in to, I don't know, sit down and have tea?"  
  
"Why would I ever do that?"  
  
Lucius chuckled, his teeth appearing to show perfect white rows. "C'mon, Weasley, I thought you were among the 'good guys'. Don't you do such hospitable things?" He chuckled some more, but as he saw that his little joke did nothing to soften Weasley's countenance against him, he once again raised his arms to show he held no wand. "Or we can continue to stand here with my hands up and your wand pointed at me if it makes you feel better."  
  
Arthur grinned, shocking himself. Lucius Malfoy actually made a joke that was neither insulting nor degrading towards him or anybody else. "Give me your wand then."  
  
Lucius's lips turned downwards. "Absolutely not. I don't want your Muggle- loving hands touching–" But then he stopped himself. 'There are more important matters to discuss, Lucius,' he thought to himself and with a lot (an enormous) amount of effort, he drew his wand and for the first time in a very long time, he gave it over to someone else. He was surprised to feel somewhat naked without that length of wood neither in his hands nor in his pocket.  
  
When the wand was in his hand, Arthur turned around and repaired the door with a quick repairing charm. Turning back towards this midnight visitor, Arthur asked, "So what is so urgent that you actually gave up your wand to me, Malfoy?"  
  
Lucius sighed as he took a moment to glance at the night sky above. "You know why, Arthur."  
  
"No, I don't–"  
  
"Yes, you do," Lucius cut in as he now stared directly into Arthur's eyes. "How is he?"  
  
Arthur frowned. There was no way Lucius could have found out that Draco was here. And yet, what he was asking... "If you're referring to my sons, they're fine."  
  
Lucius's thin lips took a downward turn yet again. "How is Draco?"  
  
Arthur's brows rose. He didn't answer. Instead his eyes surveyed the area around his house. Nothing moved. At least, none he could detect. What if this was an ambush? Which would explain why Lucius gave up his wand so easily. He wouldn't need it if he had backup. "Bloody hell," he whispered as he took a step back and raised his wand.  
  
But Lucius, faster then Arthur had ever remembered him, in a swift motion came to him and grabbed hold of his wrists preventing him from casting any spells and tightening them with enough pressure that Arthur's hold on both wands were lost. Both wands dropped to the floor. "I already told you, Weasley, I'm not here to hurt you. If I had, I could have killed you twice over already." Letting go of Arthur's wrists, he stepped back and smoothed out his robes. "I'm not planning on getting Draco back."  
  
Arthur, rubbing his wrists, paused as he looked again into those dark eyes. For years he had always looked into those eyes to be met with a coldness and malice that had him shaking even though he refused to show it. And yet now, that coldness and malice was gone. What was replacing it was something Arthur himself could not believe: Worry, it was worry.  
  
Lucius growled and ran a hand through his sleek blonde hair. "So how is he doing?"  
  
"'We're both fathers', huh?" Arthur said aloud and when he caught Lucius's narrowing eyes, this time Arthur did chuckle. "The Malfoys are full of surprises." Lucius, seeming about to retort with an insult, was forced quiet as Arthur continued before Lucius could ruin the moment of understanding between them. "He's doing fine. Still recovering, but getting better." As those words left his mouth, Arthur caught the visual show of relief pass its way over Lucius's usually emotionless face.  
  
"I'm glad." Just as quickly as the relief was shown on his face, it was quickly erased. But not fast enough. Arthur felt a smile form on his lips. Lucius, catching the smile, scowled some more. "What are you smiling about, Weasley?"  
  
"It's glad to know you have a heart, Malfoy."  
  
Lucius rolled his. "If that's what you call it." Bending down, he picked up his wand and was quickly comforted by the feel of its smooth wooden surface against the palm of his hands. "Don't start thinking that this changes anything between us," he said as he put his wand in his robes.  
  
"But doesn't it?" Arthur asked as he also picked up his wand and pocketed it. "Lucius... the Order could use your help..."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Lucius snapped, his eyes back towards the sky. "Me? In the Order? To what? Protect stupid Muggles?"  
  
"Your son did just that. He protected a 'stupid' Muggle."  
  
"And look at what it gets him!" Lucius shook his head. "Now Voldemort is after him. The Death Eaters are after him." Arthur joined Lucius's gaze towards the sky, trying to figure out what exactly it was that Lucius was staring towards. "I was ordered to kill him." Arthur's eyes caught what it was that Lucius was staring at. It was the constellation Draco, the dragon. "And though it's a direct order from Him, even though I know if I don't do it he'd kill me or worse... he'd hurt Narcissa..." His voice faltered and Arthur glanced at this man he thought he knew so well, but realizing that he didn't. "I... I can't..."  
  
"We're both fathers," Arthur repeated that simple phrase that meant so much. He tried to imagine what he would do if Dumbledore asked him to sacrifice Ron or Fred or any of his kids in order to help the cause and he wondered if he could do it... even if it meant the permanent defeat of Voldemort... The thought caused his chest to constrict and the understanding that had begun to form grew between the two men. 'We're both fathers.' "What do you plan to do?"  
  
Lucius again shook his head. "I don't know."  
  
They went silent, their eyes towards the ground, both with the burden of their problems evident and exposed to one another. Arthur was about to speak up, to again offer membership into the Order, even thinking of ways to secure the whole Malfoy family's safety, but before he could say anything, Lucius took a step back and nodded his head towards him in a gesture of farewell.  
  
"You will never knew how hard this is for me to say," Lucius began as he took his wand out of his pocket, "but, thank you. Thank you for helping my son."  
  
"I think I understand your Malfoy shame," Arthur joked and he caught a smirk on Lucius's face at his comment. "And you're welcome," Arthur said.  
  
"This changes nothing between us, you understand? I'm a Death Eater. You're part of the Order. Next time we meet, Arthur Weasley, there will be no chit chat."  
  
Arthur nodded, his eyes holding Lucius's eyes. "I hope then we won't meet till everything is over, Lucius."  
  
Lucius at first did not respond, but then he gave a little nod that would have been missed if Arthur wasn't expecting it. "Tell Draco: Exsisto tutus." And with that, Lucius Disapparated and was gone. Arthur leaned back on the door behind him and stared up towards the constellation that may have been the inspiration of Draco's naming. 'Exsisto tutus, huh? Be safe.' Though matters just got more complicated – the conversation must immediately be retold to Dumbledore and discussed – Arthur couldn't stop the smile on his lips grow.  
  
"Malfoys are full of surprises," he whispered up towards the dragon in the sky.  
  
.:. TBC .:.  
  
So how was that? I'm unsure of the next update considering this story is taking it's own spin into a totally different direction then planned. Stories really do write themselves, huh? But I'll try to get the next part out in less then a year v  
  
Also, I'm doubtful whether 'Exsisto tutus' truly does mean 'Be safe' considering I used one of those online translators, but if you know that it's wrong and know the proper Latin, then I'd be very grateful if you could correct me! Thanks! =)  
  
I hope you all enjoyed.  
  
cyn 


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